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<title>Distance Erased with the Greatest of Ease by DandelionDrabbles (AnonymousDandelion)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763522">Distance Erased with the Greatest of Ease</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/DandelionDrabbles'>DandelionDrabbles (AnonymousDandelion)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dialogue Prompt Fills [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous Relationships, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley's Bodyswap (Good Omens), Bodyswap, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Footnotes, M/M, Soul Touching, The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), headcanon re: the logistics of switching corporations, metaphysical mingling, soulmates dialogue prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:22:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDandelion/pseuds/DandelionDrabbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In physical time, it can’t be more than a moment. An outside observer would see the figures on the sofa morphing, hand in hand — black suit fading to beige, blond hair darkening to auburn, each being shifting smoothly to resemble the other’s form.</p><p>On the inside, however, essences intertwining, cores sharing metaphysical space, joined in closeness, in trust, in mutual <em>knowing…</em></p><p>(Soulmates dialogue prompt fill #6.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dialogue Prompt Fills [23]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Aspec-friendly Good Omens</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Distance Erased with the Greatest of Ease</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt in the end notes, as usual.</p><p>I haven't written much in the way of metaphysical stuff before, and trying to translate the concepts in my head into words for this ficlet turned out rather an interesting experiment. So hopefully this isn't totally incomprehensible...? The jury is still out on that, though!</p><p>Title from Eric's Song, by Vienna Teng.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Really,” Aziraphale frets, fiddling with the tartan fringe on the sofa that definitely didn’t have a tartan fringe prior to tonight, “switching bodies ought to be simple enough.”</p><p>They have a tenuous survival plan; now, they just need to figure out how to put it into practice. Crowley tries to make his brain function. “Would it be like… possessing each other? We can do that.”</p><p>Admittedly, Aziraphale has more recent experience, it being a couple millennia since Crowley last tried possession<a id="return1" name="return1"></a><a href="#note1"><sup>[1]</sup> </a>, but…</p><p>But the angel is frowning. “I don’t know. Our bodies don’t work the same way as humans’. If they’re vacated…”</p><p>“...then we discorporate, and neither of us has <em> any </em> face to choose,” Crowley finishes. He sighs. “Right. Too risky.”</p><p>Human bodies anchor human souls to the physical world. For those of celestial stock, though, it’s the other way around: the occult or ethereal occupant is what keeps a corporation corporeal.<a id="return2" name="return2"></a><a href="#note2"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p><p>Aziraphale brow is furrowed in concentration.<a id="return3" name="return3"></a><a href="#note3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> Finally, he says, “Our bodies are less… <em> fixed </em> than humans’. What if we… traded via essence?”</p><p>“If… <em> oh</em>.” The concept clicks in Crowley’s head. “Huh. Metaphysical contact. Move corporations through souls, instead of souls moving between corporations.” He considers the idea. It seems…</p><p>Smart, actually. Logical. Like it might <em> work. </em></p><p>“Let’s do it,” he says.</p><p>“That… you’re sure?” Predictably, having come up with a brilliant idea, Aziraphale now looks like he’s second-guessing it. “It would mean… metaphysical contact, you said…”</p><p>“Sure,” says Crowley, unsuccessfully casual.</p><p>He extends his hand. After an instant, Aziraphale accepts it.<a id="return4" name="return4"></a><a href="#note4"><sup>[4]</sup></a></p><p>Carefully, questingly, Crowley lets the core that is <em> him </em> flow up the arm that is <em> his </em> — bringing that arm and the rest of its attached corporation along with the core. On the other end of their clasped hands, Aziraphale mirrors the metaphysical motion.</p><p>They meet in the middle, momentarily immaterial matter<a id="return5" name="return5"></a><a href="#note5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> that would usually be bodies passing through mingling souls to emerge intact on the opposite side,  moored in place by one thread extended from each essence.</p><p>It is, surprisingly, easy.</p><p>In physical time, it can’t be more than a moment. An outside observer<a id="return6" name="return6"></a><a href="#note6"><sup>[6]</sup></a> would see the figures on the sofa morphing, hand in hand — black suit fading to beige, blond hair darkening to auburn, each being shifting smoothly to resemble the other’s form.</p><p>On the inside, however, essences intertwining, cores sharing metaphysical space, joined in closeness, in trust, in mutual <em> knowing… </em></p><p>
  <em> This feels rather remarkable. </em>
</p><p>The thought reverberates in Crowley’s being for a long stretch, until he realizes it wasn’t his thought at all.</p><p><em> It is, </em> he says or thinks or <em> feels </em> back to Aziraphale, a kind of communication that has nothing to do with the vocal cords of the principality-shaped corporation now re-forming on Crowley’s sofa half.</p><p><em> Like we’re two bodies with one soul only, </em> Aziraphale continues — or perhaps Crowley does, or perhaps they both do, but it’s true enough that it hardly makes a difference — and though ordinarily neither could handle such overt sentimentality, they can’t very well maintain embarrassment with their very essences linked, awash in shared emotion, caught in mutual <em> being. </em></p><p>And then the moment ends. Essences disengage, settle into unfamiliar corporations. Fingers loosen, slip apart.</p><p>Crowley stares at his own face, and Aziraphale stares out of it, and <em> oh gosh, are Crowley’s eyes always that expressive?<a id="return7" name="return7"></a><a href="#note7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> </em></p><p>Ah, and here it is now: the itch of embarrassment. But it’s mild, and manageable, the memory of interwoven essence still resonating within Crowley’s core.</p><p>Maybe, he dares hope as chosen faces exchange an experimental smile, their plan will work.</p><p>If so, they’ll get to do this again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a> <sup>1 Every century or so, he has another go at convincing the Dark Council that demonic possession is totally obsolete. Why bother going to that much trouble to influence one single human, when you could be much more efficiently corrupting whole swathes of the population with low-effort irritants? Way more useful to have your own corporation, rather than commandeering a human one. Besides, humans are inventively evil enough when left to their own devices that messing with their free will is counterproductive, on top of impractical.<a href="#return1">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a> <sup>2 In other words, a corporation needs an essence to hold it together. Thus, in case of discorporation, with a celestial soul forcibly ejected from its body, there would be no physical remains to be found. Both Aziraphale and Crowley experienced a vivid reminder of this fact today, from different perspectives on the same discorporation.<a href="#return2">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p><a id="note3" name="note3"></a> <sup>3 Even in the context of a life-or-death brainstorming session, Crowley allows himself a moment to appreciate the sight. Nothing compares to Aziraphale with his mind at work. (Not that that’s saying much, given that as far as Crowley is concerned nothing compares to Aziraphale, period, in any state of mind. But that’s not the point.)<a href="#return3">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p><a id="note4" name="note4"></a> <sup>4 Which is a small miracle of its own — except it’s not miraculous at all, it’s infinitely more wonderful than any miracle could ever be, because <em>Aziraphale is holding Crowley’s hand!!!</em><a href="#return4">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p><a id="note5" name="note5"></a> <sup>5 Yes, you read that correctly: immaterial matter. Don’t question the physics. Bear in mind that size/shape/composition are merely options for those of angel stock or demon breed. It follows that physics is also an option.<a href="#return5">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p><a id="note6" name="note6"></a> <sup>6 There is, thankfully, no outside observer. With one possible Exception — but Her observations would not be constrained by physical time.<a href="#return6">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p><a id="note7" name="note7"></a> <sup>7  Yes. Definitely. Crowley’s eyes are indeed always that expressive.<a href="#return7">[return to text]</a> </sup></p><p>Prompt: "We're two bodies with one soul only."</p><p>Thanks for reading, and as always, I would absolutely love to hear any thoughts that you may have!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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